There's the risky way: Ignore the ticket. That's the approach taken by about half of those who get tickets in Linndale. Ignoring the ticket won't affect your driving record or impede your ability to register your car. It's not a criminal citation, like tickets issued by a police officer. But you may come to regret that decision if a nasty debt collector starts pestering you to pay up, or a debt collection law firm drags you to court.

No one has ever been sent to collections by Linndale, according to Mayor Ashlee McLaughlin. That's not to say it couldn't happen later. Council passed an ordinance providing for collections, but the village hasn't gotten around to hiring a vendor, she said.

Then there's the easy way: Talk to Richard Neff. To do that, request a hearing within 30 days, which is your right. Then, just show up.

Of the thousands of tickets issued since May, when Neff was appointed to hear appeals, only about 300 motorists have requested a hearing. Only 125 or so actually showed up for the hearings, which are held every other Thursday at 2 p.m.

That's not the most convenient time for people with day jobs. But Neff can make it worth your time. He has knocked something off the bill for every motorist who has appeared before him, and he's torn up the ticket for one in five of them.

"Nobody's looking to hurt anybody," said Neff, a former assistant Cuyahoga County prosecutor who also works part time as a prosecutor in Parma Municipal Court. "If they have a good excuse or a mitigating factor, I try to treat them well. What works with me is a nice, human argument."

Despite his forgiving nature, so few people asked for a hearing in late September that he cancelled that Thursday's session.

"That shocked me," said Neff. "I would think people would want to fight it."

Partly because most people just mail in the $125, the village has taken in more than $1.8 million for its 60-percent share of fines since tickets began in late 2013. Its vendor, Optotraffic, keeps 40 percent.

Linndale is notorious for its traffic citations. Its reputation inspired a state law that eliminated Mayor's Courts for communities with fewer than 200 residents. Linndale, pop. 178, could no longer profit from tickets written by its police on I-71.

But that law doesn't affect income from the traffic cameras on Memphis Avenue. The village and Optotraffic share all of that money.

The Supreme Court ruled that communities that operate traffic cameras can have their own administrative hearings to deal with appeals instead of referring them to the nearest municipal court, as they must with criminal tickets issued by cops.

And that's where Neff comes in.

When they meet him, piqued motorists are ready for battle. Instead, they get a warm smile and a receptive ear.

Neff sits alone in a back office at the tiny village hall as clerk Shannon Condon shepherds each appellant to a seat across from him. It's more like a confessional than a confrontation.

"Did you get your picture taken?" Neff asks.

Joyce Edwards replies that indeed she did.

"I didn't see any sign. It had to be in the bushes or something. I didn't see any sign," she said.

"It's pretty clear," Neff said gently. The signs on Memphis are blatant and they clearly warn of camera enforcement.

She continues: "I didn't know the speed limit went down right there."

Neff explains, correctly, that the limit is 25 miles per hour on that stretch road in Linndale as it is on both sides, in Cleveland and Brooklyn. It doesn't suddenly drop.

Edwards is undeterred: "That's the first time I've ever been on that street and ..."

Neff interrupts.

"I'm in the mood to compromise," he tells her. "Make me an offer."

"I just got laid off last Friday. I can come up with $25," she says.

"If you can do that, I can put it to rest today," Neff tells her.

"Will I get that on paper? Online it's already up to $150," she says.

"Twenty-five is our number. You have a nice day."

And so it went for the handful of cases Neff heard that day.

"Can you do fifty bucks?" he asks John Harmon.

"I have ten days to pay? I can do that," Harmon replies.

Michelle Berki tells him about her good driving record.

"It's $125. Make me an offer," says Neff.

She proffers $75.

"You seem very sincere," he tells her. "Make it $50."

Shock on her face gives way to a smile.

Thomas Drost goes the honest route in his hearing.

"What happened," Neff asks.

"I don't know, I know Linndale, but I guess I was speeding," he says.

"How about an offer. No reasonable offer refused," says Neff.

"I don't know, what do you usually go down to? You're the boss," says Drost, fishing.

"How about fifty bucks?" says Neff.

Another happy customer prepared to drive slowly out of Linndale.

Finally came Alyssa Brann, armed with photographs and a mathematical equation, based on her estimate of the distance traveled, using the two pictures that come with each ticket.

"velocity = distance/time"

She has a point to make and she's nervous, but determined.

Neff explains that he's heard the math argument before, but that he'd heard expert testimony in May from the village's vendor, Optotraffic, and a consultant, and the police chief, and he is convinced the cameras are calibrated and operating properly.

The photographs on each citation are taken after the sensors determine speed and aren't part of the citation process. They simply identify the car being ticketed and the second one just proves it was moving. They can't be used to determine, with accuracy, the speed clocked by the lasers used in the traffic camera's sensors, he tells her.

"I see what you've done here and I have to commend you, but I'm going to stick with my ruling," Neff says.

"But I can show you the math! It was physically impossible that I was going over 35," she protests.

"How about give me 25 bucks?" Neff offers.

That stops the math in its tracks.

"O.K., I guess it's not worth the hassle because I know you won't listen to the math and I had to take off work and I had to drive all the way here and ..."

"OK, tell you what. You're free to go. Dismissed," says Neff.

Afterward, Brann had mixed emotions.

"He let me off," she said. "But the math shows this was wrong and this may be happening to other people."

She doesn't buy Neff's explanation, she said.

"No way I was going that fast," she said. "Everyone makes fun of me for driving slow."